


The Pranks We Pulled

by mannybothans



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anime, Cunnilingus, Enabling, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fellatio, Food Pranks, Harmless Pranks, Hentai, Humor, Mild Fluff, Oral Sex, Porn Without Plot, Prank War, Smut, Unsolicited Dick Pics, angery sam winchester is angery, awkward boner, because he's usually such an edgelord, dating apps, i am confusion, i'm not in charge when i write these things, is tired of your bullshit, mastermind sam winchester, my bad - Freeform, phone pranks, really fucking slow burn, when dean is thoughtful and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-04 00:04:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17887706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mannybothans/pseuds/mannybothans
Summary: In true Winchester fashion, you don't take Dean's pranks without a little retaliation. But when you two get Sam involved in your growing prank war, he unwittingly ensures you and Dean call a truce that will last longer than a day.Maybe.





	The Pranks We Pulled

How Is That Real?

“Ew, God, don’t guys know unsolicited dick pics are so 2016?” You groaned, closing out of your dating app once it was clear your inbox was nothing but male genitalia.

“Why do you even still use that?” Sam asked, glancing up from his tablet. You were sitting in the library, bored out of your mind but refusing to help look for cases. If Dean could get out of hours of mindless web surfing, you could take a break. And even though Dean had his laptop open in front of him, you knew he wasn’t perusing news websites.

You shrugged one shoulder in response. “Helps when we’re on the road and mama needs an itch scratched.”

Sam’s mouth turned downward into a frown. “You could’ve phrased that literally any other way, dude.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to see your I’m Disgusted Face,” you chuckled.

“Well, I thought my appetite would be ruined from that, but I still need a snack,” Dean announced and got up to head into the kitchen. He left his phone at the end of the table where he’d been sitting. It buzzed and your eyes darted over to it. Dean could take anywhere from five minutes to five hours to make a snack, but…

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t,” Sam warned while doing a shit job of hiding a small, knowing grin.

“Shut up, Sam,” you grinned widely and grabbed Dean’s phone. He never put a passcode on it, so you unlocked it and downloaded the same dating app you had. Dean pretended he wasn’t a vain sonofabitch, but the amount of selfies on his phone proved otherwise. You chose one where he looked especially pretty and then quickly filled out his profile – Single, Male, Not Looking For Commitment (just good dick). You set his phone back down on the table only about ninety seconds before he returned with a sandwich large enough to feed a family of four.

“Snack, huh?” You teased and Dean just smiled charmingly and then bit into his sandwich, making an obscenely sexual moan as he did.

“Speaking of losing appetites,” Sam scowled without looking up from his tablet. “So, guys, if we wanna get out of this damn bunker any time soon, why don’t y’all pitch in and help look for cases?”

You sighed, but realized he was right. As much fun as it was pranking each other at home, there were often better pranks to be had on the road. As long as they didn’t involve Baby, which you’d learned the hard way when you put toothpaste under front door handles one morning before you were supposed to hit the road. The case had been exhausting and you just wanted to lighten the mood before a long drive back to Kansas. But Dean lost his shit and Sam had to talk him down from leaving you stranded in Maine. On top of that, you had to wash and _detail_ the entire damn car before you even left. You hadn’t touched Baby, since.

Only a couple minutes after you opened your laptop and began working, Dean’s phone buzzed again.

And again.

And again.

He finally looked at it like it was possessed and you felt Sam’s eyes on you but refused to look up. “Jesus, Dean, popular much?” You remarked.

“What the hell is a Tindr?” Dean said around the last bite of his sandwich, picking up his phone. You bit your tongue pressed your lips together to hide the inevitable smirk. When his thumb flicked across his screen, you glanced over at him. He swallowed his food, then his lips parted as he began reading what could only be messages from other app users. “Brandt, 32, 8 miles away. The fuck is this?” Dean mumbled and you took a deep breath to keep from busting out laughing. “Oh! Oh come on!” Dean bellowed after a minute. “How is that… that can’t be real.” His brow furrowed and he squinted, then used his thumb and forefinger like he was zooming in on something. “That… there’s no way that’s real!”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Dean?” Sam finally burst out, sounding more than a little exasperated. You nearly lost your cool since Sam had no idea what you’d done with Dean’s phone.

“Tell me if this looks real! There’s no way it is,” Dean said and aimed his phone screen at Sam.

Sam blinked and then squinted and then his eyes got wide and he scooted back. “Uh-uh, nope. I’m done. Bye.” He got up and took his tablet and phone, then shot you a withering glance. “I hope you’re happy.”

You couldn’t contain it any longer and burst into laughter. You knew damn well Dean had just shown Sam a dick pic.

“Why am I still getting these?!” Dean asked, sounding mildly panicked. “There’s so many! What the fuck did you do, Y/N?”

“See what I have to deal with?!” You exclaimed, still laughing at the look of utter horror and dismay on Dean’s face as the dick pics kept coming.

“Okay, but there is NO way that’s real!” He turned the phone to you and showed you what you could only assume was the same thing he’d shown Sam. The dick was an actual monster, somewhat reddish in color and you could see almost every vein and crease. It definitely looked fake. “I’ve seen a lot of porn,” Dean added when he realized you were just going to laugh until you couldn’t laugh anymore. “And there’s no way that’s real.”

“Why are you still looking at it?!” You crowed, actual tears dripping from your eyes, now.

Dean shot you a little defensive glare and then pouted, shrugging. “Dunno.”

“You gonna send one back??”

“No! God. Seriously?” He was adorable when he got defensive.

“What? Afraid Cas’ll get jealous?” Some part of you just really enjoyed seeing Dean get absurdly angry over something so trivial. His nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed, and he shot you a withering glare that would make most others cower.

“Not funny,” he glowered and stood up, leaving the library with his phone, leaving his crumb-laden plate behind for you to clean up. Dean didn’t talk to you for the rest of the day, but it was business as usual the next day. Which should have been your first red flag.

Crest Rangoon

The following day, you shuffled into the kitchen to grab the last of the Rangoon from the huge Chinese food order you placed a couple days ago. Sam was eating a salad, as usual, and Dean was back on his giant sandwich bullshit.

“Know what I love about Rangoon?” You asked nobody in particular. “You can eat them cold and they’re still good.” You opened the box and noticed one was missing. Your eyes immediately shot up to Dean, who had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Did you eat one of my Rangoon?!”

“It was just one, sweetheart. Figured you owed me at least that since I got bombarded with dicks yesterday.” His eyes twinkled in amusement and you knew he found your prank mildly clever but really unoriginal. Plus, it had backfired, because he was more amazed by that monster dick than upset by the fact the profile you made for him listed him as a “power bottom.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing full-well you were just giving Dean shit about your food when it didn’t actually matter. There were originally six Rangoon left and five was good enough for a small lunch. But if you didn’t spend a good amount of time being mad at him or pissing him off, what else would you do to entertain yourself?

“You sure you don’t wanna heat those up?” Dean asked _too casually_ before he resumed eating his sandwich.

“It’s fine. This way, I don’t burn the shit out of my mouth,” you grinned and plopped next to him, popping open the lid of the sweet and sour sauce. You were so entranced by the prospect of tasty leftover fried cream cheese deliciousness that Dean’s sly smirk completely went unnoticed – by you, anyway. Sam was watching everything little thing between the two of you as if he expected nuclear fallout and Dean’s sunny disposition was alarming, to put it simply. You picked up a particularly good-looking one and dipped it in the sauce, then took a satisfying bite, ready for the combination of sweet and salty to fill your mouth.

Except all that you tasted was _mint_. Crunchy, faintly cheesy _mint_. You spit out the bite almost immediately and Sam frowned, looking up at you from his salad.

“Gross, Y/N! What the hell?”

“What did you do?!” You yelled, turning to Dean with accusation and maybe just a hint of murder in your eyes. “Is that _toothpaste?!_ ”

Dean’s shoulders shook with laughter that he no longer could keep inside. He swallowed and then tilted his head back and actually cackled.

“Oh, god, grow up, you two!” Sam exclaimed.

“Dean I will fucking murder you!” You yelled over Sam’s protests, launching yourself at Dean. He jumped up lightning quick and you barely managed to grab onto the front of his shirt. His sandwich and your ruined lunch were quickly forgotten. “You asshole!”

Dean’s laughter was uncontrollable as he spun out of your grasp and darted across the kitchen. “Don’t prank a prankster, sweetheart,” he smirked. You stood opposite him, glowering at him from across the island. “Gosh, she’s cute when she’s mad, Sammy,” he said, just to get an even bigger rise out of you.

“Don’t bring me into this,” Sam declared, quickly finishing his salad before he was dragged into this fight.

You took a deep breath and spun around, snatching Dean’s sandwich off his plate in place of your Crest-filled Asian pastries.

“Hey!” Dean shouted as you took a huge bite out of it. “I don’t think so!” He came towards you like an angry bull, but you were quicker than him and already out the kitchen, darting through the library and into the back halls of the dormitory wing. Dean came jogging after you, screaming about his sandwich, but you didn’t stop until you were locked in your room. His fists pounded on your door, “C’mon, sweetheart! Open the door and give me the sandwich and nobody gets hurt!”

“Go fuck yourself!” You shouted back with a mouthful of sandwich. Truth be told, though you’d never admit it to him, it was one of the best sandwiches you’d ever had.

Maybe that was just the taste of victory – oh-so-sweet and decidedly short-lived.

Truce?

That night, Dean apologized for fucking with your food. You apologized for stealing his sandwich and offered him another one as a truce. It wasn’t as good as the one he’d made, but you thought you came pretty close. He accepted it, regardless.

Sam decided he couldn’t stand to be holed up with you two any longer, so he decided to go on a salt-and-burn case about fifty miles away.

“Hardly anything is just a ‘simple salt-and-burn’ anymore, Sammy. You sure you don’t want back-up on this?” Dean asked.

“I’m good, Dean,” Sam shook his head. “If I need help, I’ll call.”

You glare-pouted at him, wondering why he absolutely refused to take at least one of you with him. It was clear that you and Dean needed a break from one another’s terrible influence or else things were going to get real bad, real quick. Sam went to go pack a bag and you went to go brush your teeth.

 _Knock knock_. You turned just as Sam poked his head into your room. “Hey, do me a favor while I’m gone?”

“Suh?” You said and bent forward to spit.

“Keep the truce, cause, honestly, I like living here and having a home. I’d like not come back to a pile of rubble.”

“No promises, Sam,” you grinned after rinsing your mouth. He just sighed, ruffled your hair, and told you he’d be back the day after tomorrow.

The rest of the day, you and Dean managed to co-exist like normal people, except you didn’t trust anything he did. It continued into the next morning, which made you extra cautious. If he got up to use the bathroom, you were tempted to follow him to make sure he wasn’t up to anything. When he noticed you were highly suspicious of just about everything he did, he gave you a quizzical look.

“What’s wrong with you today?”

“Oh, nothing,” you said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Just wondering what bullshit you’re gonna try to pull, next.”

Dean rolled his eyes and smirked. “We called a truce, remember?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, noting the gleam of amusement within his. “Still don’t trust you,” you admitted.

“And you shouldn’t,” he winked. “Would it make you feel better if we pulled a prank on Sam? Together?”

You perked, then felt the tiniest bit of guilt because Sam wasn’t here to defend his stuff. But the prospect was too good to pass up. “What did you have in mind?”

Dean leaned back in his chair and stared at you as he started thinking. His gaze was intense and piercing, even though you knew he was mostly just looking _through_ you. He bit his lip and then a slow grin tugged at his lips and the overall effect was, _well._ You swallowed as a small fire ignited in your belly and suddenly you remembered that when Dean wasn’t pissing you off or pissed off _at_ you, he was disgustingly handsome. Rugged. Sexy. Delicious. “How many paper cups do we have?” He asked, bringing you out of the thoughts of what his mouth could do.

“Uh, just a few, I think.” A faint pink crept over your cheeks and you hoped Dean wouldn’t notice.

“Okay, I’ll go to the store for more,” he was grinning like a child, now, chuckling lightly. His tongue poked out from between his teeth ever so slightly. His eyes caught yours again, right as you were thinking _he’s leaving me here alone_. “Second thought, why don’t you come with?”

“I’m good,” you replied as if to challenge him, tilting your head to the side. You wondered if the mistrust was wholly one-sided, but you had an inkling that Dean trusted you about as far as he could throw you.

“Nah, you’re comin’, sweetheart,” he drawled, using his serious voice. There was really no room for argument and Dean knew it. Your body also knew it, but your mind seemed to feel the need to protest. You quashed that instinct immediately.

“Fine,” you sighed and stood up, tucking your phone into your pocket.

The trip to the store was short and sweet. There was minimal argument about the size of the cups you should get and how many. It was finally decided that you’d get the miniature spit-cup size in a pack of 500. When you got back to the bunker, it was time to get to work. You filled whatever containers you could find with water while Dean got to work setting cups down and filling them half-way. About half of the floor of Sam’s room was covered with cups when the two of you realized you’d need more to finish. Instead of abandoning the project to go back to the store, Dean decided to move the cups forward, working from about half-way across the room and back towards the door. It was the single-most tedious thing you’d ever done in the name of pranking someone that you could remember. But when you finished, you and Dean wore the stupidest self-satisfied smirks.

“Nice job, kiddo,” he said, slinging an arm around your waist and pulling you into his side.

“Yeah. That’ll show him to leave us behind,” you nodded at the door that was barely cracked open. It was ridiculous and Sam was bound to be annoyed at best and absolutely livid at worst. Whether or not he’d retaliate was something you didn’t need to worry about for another day.

Dean’s stomach took that opportunity to rumble loudly. “Heh, whoops. Guess we forgot to eat lunch.”

“C’mon, Dean, let’s get you some pie, hm?”

“I’m diggin’ this truce,” he grinned as you started towards the kitchen. You thought you felt his eyes on your backside, but you were too chicken to turn around and check. Let him stare if it meant the truce lasted a little longer.

The problem with not being angry with Dean was that you got to experience first-hand how sweet he could be when he wasn’t hell-bent on making your life difficult. Especially since Sam was absent, you realized that Dean could be way more than a thoughtless, pig-headed twat if there was nothing to antagonize. You’d been with the Winchesters for well over a year, but because Dean’s first nature was to pull pranks and not talk to someone to get to know them, you had never had a reason to not be at least a little annoyed with him. Between the pet names like “princess,” and his penchant for having an attitude, Dean could be the epitome of an edge-lord on his worst days.

But not today. Today, he was nice and thoughtful and decent, even goofy. Over the course of the evening, you snuck glances at him, noting that his eyes were much greener than you’d thought. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care that you were suddenly entranced by his looks. The two of you just hung out, drank a few beers, and did whatever on your laptops with some conversation peppered in here and there. You also happened to note that whenever Dean was amused, he did that Tongue Thing. He also did it when he was deep in thought or entirely distracted by whatever he was looking at.

Things were quiet and calm between the two of you for the first time since you could remember. It was probably just your imagination combined with the fact you hadn’t gotten laid in awhile, but you swore there was a sort of tension in the air between the two of you, as well. Nothing about his demeanor gave you any indication that he felt anything, so you pushed aside dirty thoughts and ignored the persistent ache between your legs.

“I’m bushed,” you casually announced just after nine. You couldn’t take it anymore. Your mind was racing with thoughts of what you’d do to Dean if you weren’t his hunting partner and prank nemesis. Not that he’d ever see you _that_ way. No, Dean went for women who had an air of elegant mystery about them. There was nothing elegant or mysterious about you anymore to the Winchesters. _Don’t shit where you eat_ , your brain reminded you. “I’m gonna turn in.”

“It’s pretty early,” Dean said, glancing up from his laptop. “You feelin’ alright?” He was honestly concerned and it made your stomach feel funny.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, having no other excuse. “I guess meticulously placing 500 tiny water cups all day took it outta me.”

“Right,” he said as if he didn’t quite believe you. “Okay. Night, then.”

“Night, Dean,” you shut your laptop and gathered the cord for it, giving him a small smile on your way out. Once safely inside your room, you undressed and climbed under your covers, trying to think of anything aside from Dean’s lips, teeth, and tongue and where you wanted them.

It mostly worked.

Sam’s Revenge

You’d almost forgotten about what you and Dean did to Sam’s room when he got home the following afternoon. You and Dean were in the library, watching cartoons on your laptop. The air between you two didn’t seem as thick with sexual tension anymore, which made it easier to be around him.

“I see you guys didn’t burn the place down,” Sam noted when he stopped by the library to say hello.

“How’d it go, Sam?” You asked, only half paying attention to him. You and Dean had found some new anime to watch – one of the only things you could agree upon to watch together. It drove Sam nuts, especially when you would goof off and scream at each other in broken Japanese.

“Oh, I lost a few toes and some teeth, but I’m good,” he said, his eyes darting between you and Dean. Something was up. Things were too calm for his liking. “How is one of you not dead, yet?”

“Hm? Truce,” Dean chimed in, barely flicking his eyes over to his brother.

“O – kay,” Sam said, nodding. “I’m gonna, just, go to my room, now,” he trailed off. Something was definitely off with you and Dean. It was like the calm before the storm.

And moments later you remembered that you’d sabotaged Sam’s room and you nearly shot out of your chair. “Dean! The cups!”

“Oh, shit,” he almost knocked his chair over in his haste to get up. The two of you fumbled around each other, desperately trying to figure out if you wanted to be closer or farther from the inevitable wrath of Sam. You collided into his chest when Dean turned to head towards the back hallways and you decided to bee-line to the kitchen. “Oh, fuck, sorry,” he said when the two of you stepped into each other’s path once more.

You huffed out a nervous laugh as Dean’s hands gripped your shoulders to hold you in place while he stepped around you. And then you both froze as Sam bellowed his displeasure at the prank.

Dean locked eyes with you, looking for all the world like he was going to kiss you, and then bolted. “Nice knowing you!” He called out as he took off towards his room. You wanted to follow him, knowing he could barricade his door against Sam, but waited too long in trying to make up your mind. Dean had left you in the dust, alone, to fend for yourself.

Sam came stomping into the library, breathing heavily and face shining with anger. “Where is he?!”

“Dean?” You squeaked, sitting back down at your laptop as if you hadn’t just tried to make a run for it, too.

“Who else, Y/N?!”

“He, he,” _do I rat him out or take one for the team?!_ Sam’s nostrils flared and he clenched his fist. “He ran that way!” You panicked and pointed at the door to the back hallways. Sam was there and then he was gone in what seemed like three strides. “Nice knowing you, Dean,” you muttered. You knew Sam found him when things got loud, but the noise died down after only a couple minutes and it didn’t sound like anything – or anyone – had been broken, thankfully. You scrunched your nose at the thought of going to investigate, but decided it’d be better to find the body sooner rather than later. Taking the long way, you looked for signs of damage or death. You finally got to the dorm hallway and Sam was standing in his doorway, hands on his hips, and catching his breath while surveying the mess in his room. Suddenly, he spun around towards you.

“Did you help him!?”

“What?! No! I,”

“Cut the shit, Y/N. He already admitted it was your idea,” Sam’s hazel eyes flashed dangerously and you wondered how, exactly, you’d wind up burning on a pyre. Stabbed? Shot? Choked out? All of them seemed plausible.

Your eyes narrowed. “It was not! It was his idea! I just, maybe I helped a little?” you conceded.

“I heard that!” Dean yelled back, his head poking out of Sam’s room. “Thanks for nothing, by the way!” The only instinct you had was to stick your tongue out at him like you weren’t 30-something and were, in fact, an actual child. “Use it or share it, sweetheart,” he warned.

“Just, clean up my fucking room!” Sam interjected. “I’m giving you _both_ an hour to clean up this mess and if it’s not done, so help me.”

Dean smirked and you glanced away, finally noticing the mop and bucket outside Sam’s room.

“Looks like Dean’s got it handled,” you shrugged, spinning around to leave. Sam grabbed your elbow before you could even take a step and dragged you backwards. You barely tried to escape his grip, accepting your fate for being so stupid as to make sure Dean was alive.

“I don’t think so,” Sam hissed. “Get in there and help him clean up the mess _both_ of you caused.”

“Pretty sure you caused it when you opened the door, actually,” you mumbled, full of sass for whatever reason. You blamed the sexual tension from the day prior.

Sam must have heard you because he gave you a little shove that propelled you directly into Dean’s side. “Clean it. One hour.”

“This took like all day to set up! You could at least appreciate the effort!” Dean argued as the younger Winchester set the mop bucket inside his room and you pushed yourself off him. Sam shook his head, then pulled his door shut and – and was that a lock you heard?

“Did he just?”

“Lock us in,” Dean finished your thought.

“Like we can’t pick a lock,” you rolled your eyes and reached into your jeans pocket for a bobby pin. You snorted when you didn’t find it, then checked the other pocket. “Sonofabitch,” you muttered.

Dean gave you a curious look in response, holding the mop upright at his side.

“He pick-pocketed me!” You exclaimed and Dean just tilted his head back and laughed.

“Better get started picking up those cups, then, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Wouldn’t wanna be on Sam’s bad side after this.”

With a huff, you bent over and started collecting cups from the immediate surrounding area. Since the area where the door had pushed the cups aside wasn’t exactly spacious and you were sharing it with Dean, a mop, and a bucket, you bumped Dean a few times.

“Might go faster if you helped,” you finally gritted out, annoyed that he was just standing there, watching you.

“I dunno, I’m kinda enjoying the view,” he smirked back.

You stood up and glared at him, reaching around him to dump the cups down the sink. Somewhere in your subconscious, you noted that Dean didn’t even try to move out of your way, so you had to press right up against him to reach the sink. _Nope, not even going there_ , you thought. “Can you just help clean?! God only knows what Sam’s doing to our shit, right now! The sooner we finish, the less time he has to exact his revenge.”

He tsked and shrugged. “Just trying to have some fun, sweetheart.”

“You could try helping?” You offered, your voice not hiding your ire in the slightest.

“Here, hand me the cups, I’ll dump them out. Like an assembly line. Disassembly line?”

You stood up with a handful cups and just stared at him for a solid moment, then handed them over. Dean dutifully turned and ditched the contents into the sink, then stacked them off to the side. “I still think this would go faster if we both did it,” you muttered as you picked up more cups.

“Let’s just clear a space to work, okay? Then I’ll help pick up, I promise.” Dean took the cups from you in his large hands with a disarmingly boyish smile on his face.

“Fine,” you sighed.

The peace was short-lived – just long enough for a space to be cleared where you both could pick up cups and move around each other to dump them out. Dean was juggling one too many cups when you turned from the sink and he lost his grip, sending two of them tumbling directly onto you. Water trickled down your stomach and the front of your jeans as you stood absolutely still in shock.

“Shit,” he muttered, eyes going wide. “I, I didn’t mean to,” he stammered when he saw the fury in your eyes. “Heh, kinda looks like you peed yourself,” he snickered after a moment, seemingly unable to help himself.

You stepped aside without saying a word and picked up several more cups, waiting for him to turn towards you so you could dump them out.

Right onto his crotch.

“Wha- hey!” Dean’s jaw dropped as his jeans turned a darker shade of blue.

“S’what you get,” you huffed. “Now we’re even.”

“It was an accident!” Dean objected. “You did this on purpose!”

“Yeah, and?” You raised an eyebrow, challenging him to do something about it.

“Okay,” Dean nodded slowly. “Alright.” His calm tone was a giant red flag, but there wasn’t really anywhere to go. You couldn’t run from him because the door was locked and there were enough cups still on the floor to make jumping over them nearly impossible. Dean bent down and scooped up half a dozen, some of them sloshing water over his hands as he abandoned all instinct to be careful – then he launched them at you, showering you in water, before you could duck.

“Dean!!” You shrieked, your voice almost echoing in the confines of Sam’s locked bedroom.

“ _Now_ we’re even,” he stated, calmly turning to stack the empties as you stood there, water soaking into your clothes.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” You hissed, grabbing the nearest few cups and moving quickly to dump the contents down the inside of the back of his shirt. Dean’s back arched as he tried to escape the watery assault. He spun towards you and you leapt to grab more cups before he could, but he barreled into you and you lost your balance, knocking over about a dozen in the process while landing on the still-wet floor. “No!” You cried out as Dean grabbed a handful of cups and dumped them out directly onto your face. “Dean!” Your hands pushed at him as you tried to wriggle your hips out from between his knees as he sat on your thighs, frantically trying to escape before he could throw more water at you.

Dean just smirked and swept more off the floor, not even caring about the growing puddle beneath you as he continued drenching you. You sputtered, raising one hand to try to block your face, but his free hand shoved yours out of the way.

It was an odd sensation, being pinned by Dean and manhandled so he could literally make you as wet as he wanted. You were turned on and pissed off all at once. Your hips bucked, trying to throw him off, but he was stronger than you.

He sat back to admire his handy work, smirking slightly with his tongue just barely poking out from between his teeth. You bit back a moan as his eyes raked over your body below him, then writhed for your freedom once more.

He let you escape, simply because there still wasn’t really anywhere to go. Even as you scooted back, you knocked over more cups.

“Happy now?!” You griped.

Dean shrugged, still smirking. “Not a bad look for you.”

 _What, me being soaking wet or being under him?!_ “Fuck off,” you muttered, grasping a couple cups and hurling them in Dean’s direction.

“Oh, you want more?” Dean’s eyebrows raised.

The job of picking up Sam’s room was abandoned for several more minutes as you each threw as much water at the other as you could. Cups went flying, water ended up all over the floor, and Dean tried to wrestle you onto your back again, but you managed to escape his grasp and shout for a truce. If you let him pin you again, you were almost certain you’d end up doing something stupid like trying to kiss him.

Reluctantly, Dean agreed.

Exactly sixty minutes after locking you in his room, Sam came back. The two of you were still soaked, but you were silently, angrily tossing cups into a giant trash bag and Dean was finishing mopping the last of the water off the floor.

“I don’t even wanna know,” Sam announced, shaking his head as he took in the disheveled state of both of you.

The Big Bang

While you were locked in his room, Sam put blue food coloring in your shampoo. He replaced Dean’s whiskey with flat cola. He hid all the sugar in the house and replaced it all with salt. Dean’s laptop was taped shut with so many layers that he had to use a knife to cut through it. Your phone was turned on silent and taped to the underside of the chair you usually sat in the library while Sam swore he had no idea where your phone was.

He’d also taken pictures of himself on your phone, all of them the most hideous faces he could make, and changed all your social media passwords. How he knew your phone passcode, you had no idea, but it soon became evident that he made it so only his face could unlock your phone.

You figured Sam was done and used his hour wisely – until you sat down at your laptop later that night to resume the show you and Dean had been watching before all hell broke loose.

Dean plopped down next to you as if he hadn’t spent the better part of an hour throwing water at you earlier. You’d showered after - so, your hair, hands, and neck were all stained a lovely shade of blue. He handed you a beer, smirking at the blue dye on your hands.

“Always did like the smurfs,” he winked at Sam and Sam just shook his head, doing his best to ignore you.

When you pressed a key to wake up your laptop, the screen came alive with a very naked anime girl being attacked by several men dressed as ninjas. You nearly leaped out of your seat because Sam had also turned the volume _all the way up_.

“Jesus fuck, Sam!” You cried. “Give me a fucking heart-attack!”

He merely shrugged, a shit-eating grin spreading on his face. You slammed the space bar so the shrieks and moans would stop filling the entire library, muting the video as it continued. Dean just chuckled, which didn’t help the sudden pooling heat between your legs. “Nice one, Sammy.” It didn’t bother him one bit when you scowled for complimenting Sam’s fucking with your things. “ _L.A. Blue Girl_ , a classic.”

“I am _not_ watching hentai with you, Dean,” you asserted as you moved the cursor to ‘x’ out of the browser window.

“Have you ever seen _L.A. Blue Girl_?” Dean asked casually. “It’s actually got a story to it.” His eyes were glued to the movie, still playing silently across your screen.

“Right,” you rolled your eyes. You’d heard of it, but didn’t know if you cared to watch anime porn with Dean Fucking Winchester after today. But you didn’t close out of the window.

“It’s true,” Sam chimed in, much to your utter surprise. “Kinda interesting. Definitely paved the way for the genre.”

Your jaw dropped slightly as your cursor hovered over the ‘x.’ “I, I am _not_ watching hentai around you idiots,” you firmly announced. “A room full of awkward boners? Does not sound like a good time.” _It actually sounds like a great time,_ your brain taunted. Your eyes glanced down to Dean’s lap before you could stop them. And still, you didn’t close the browser window.

“Fine by me. I’m going to bed,” Sam said and stood up. “See you jerks in the morning.” He waved and disappeared out of the library.

“God, I think I was fourteen the first time I watched this?” Dean muttered. He leaned forward in his seat and hit the space bar, then hurriedly turned the volume down to a reasonable level. “Good times,” he took a sip of his beer. It was then you realized you’d been clutching your beer so tightly that your hand actually hurt.

“I, I don’t,”

“Oh, shaddap and watch the movie,” Dean waved his hand at you. “It’s just getting good.”

You took a long gulp of beer and settled back into your seat, feeling tense all over as you focused your attention on the movie. Literally no idea what was happening, but it quickly became clear there wasn’t as much of a story as the brothers lead you to believe there was.

“You, you like this kinda thing?” You asked during a scene where a girl was being attacked by a tentacle monster. Your cheeks felt like they were bright red and there was something about how the girl moaned and writhed on the tentacles that definitely turned you on. “S’kinda… rape-y?”

Dean’s eyes slid over to you as he took a sip of beer, his tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop. “Yeah, it kinda is. Huh. If it’s making you uncomfortable,” he trailed off, leaning forward as if to close the browser.

“I mean, I guess it is what it is,” you answered quickly, covering his hand with yours and gently moving it away from the track pad. “It’s fine. I’m… curious.”

“Gotcha,” Dean replied quietly, gently squeezing your fingers before moving his hand to his lap. His voice was almost an entire octave lower and it nearly sent shivers up your spine. After a long moment, the two of you just watching tentacle porn in silence, he shifted in his seat. “You want another beer? I’mma get another.”

“Y-yeah, okay,” you nodded, wondering if it was still just you feeling as though you were sitting in an actual sea of sexual tension.

Dean cleared his throat and got up, walked over to the mini fridge by the door, and got two more beers out. He popped off the caps with the wall opener he’d installed, then flicked the lights off. You couldn’t see anything except his outline when he came back over. As soon as he sat down, though, he was drenched in the blueish light from your laptop screen, same as you.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the offered beer even as you finished your first. “The lights bothering you?”

“Eh, just figured it’d be better this way,” he replied, shifting to prop his left ankle on his right knee.

“Oh,” you blurted out, realizing Dean was trying to conceal his hard-on. Okay, so maybe the ocean of sexual tension wasn’t just on your end.

“I uh, I forgot how um, how explicit this is,” he stammered. You really didn’t have a good response, so you just shrugged and swallowed half your second beer in a few gulps.

“They’re really going at it,” you commented after a few beats.

“Mm,” Dean agreed, finishing his second beer. He set it on the table and didn’t even move like he was going to get another. You downed the rest of yours, hoping the alcohol would dull the ache between your legs that had been steadily growing. “I think, uh, I think I’m gonna turn in,” he said quietly, placing a hand on your thigh. Your gaze dropped from the laptop to his hand and you licked your bottom lip absently, wondering if he was hinting at something further.

“That bad, huh?” You teased after a few seconds.

Dean’s hand gently squeezed your thigh and a choked half-moan buried itself in your throat. “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” he said. “With uh, me, and, uh, my awkward boner. So.”

“It’s fine, Dean,” you assured him. “Things happen. I mean, if I were a guy, I’d totally have a boner, too.” You’d meant to lighten the situation, not blurt out that you were aroused, too. “I mean, I just, we’re cool, so.” _Brilliant. Just brilliant._

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” you lied. It wasn’t good, though, because you weren’t riding his dick, echoing the moans of the girl getting fucked in every orifice by tentacles on the screen. It wasn’t good because Dean’s hands weren’t smothering your breasts, smashing them together and tugging at your nipples until you cried for more. It wasn’t good because Dean’s mouth wasn’t on your hot, naked flesh, adding to the pleasure of his cock filling you all the way. Dean wasn’t making you come with his fingers, mouth, or dick, so yeah, _none of it was good_.

“It’s just, I,” Dean stuttered, huffing out a short breath. “It’s kinda painful after awhile. So,” he trailed off.

“Do what you need to do, then,” you said, trying to sound perfectly calm and casual. There, the ball was in Dean’s court. His hand pulled away from your thigh and you almost whimpered at the loss of touch. You closed your eyes, waiting to hear him get up and walk away, bid you goodnight, and go fuck his hand. But Dean didn’t get up; the only other sound you heard was the quiet but unmistakable noise of his jean’s zipper parting the metal teeth.

“This okay?” He asked, almost inaudibly.

“Mmh,” you nodded, trying to keep your breathing steady as you opened your eyes and looked over at him. Surprisingly, he was staring at you, his teeth gently tugging on his bottom lip. His hand moved in his lap and your gaze dropped just in time to see him pull his cock out and start stroking it. It filled his hand and you swallowed, hard. “Jesus,” you breathed, hoping he didn’t hear you.

“Fuck, I don’t, I don’t usually, I mean, in front of,” Dean trailed off yet again, but his hand stroked steadily and his eyes never left you.

“Should I go?” You asked, unable to help but sound a little disappointed. “Or…?” Shyly, you looked away, trying to focus on anything besides his profound gaze or amazingly hard cock.

Dean’s jaw clenched and unclenched several times. He was breathing deeply through his nose, and his eyes closed for a long moment. “No, you, I mean, if you wanna stay.” He grunted softly. “Shit.”

You knew your panties had to be absolutely soaked and a slight shift of your hips confirmed your suspicions. You had no idea if you should watch him jack off or just sit next to him and watch the movie, but you did know that you desperately needed relief, too. Trying to be discreet, you rocked your hips on the chair, hoping to get the seam of your jeans to rub you right where you needed it.

Then, the movie was over and the credits were rolling. Dean grunted again, “Fuck.” There was nothing else to watch, so your eyes slid back over to him and he was leaned back his chair, hand pumping his dick, head tilted back, lips slightly parted, looking every bit the sinful picture of pleasure. “Mm, you like watchin’, sweetheart?” His question surprised you and you guiltily tore your eyes away. “S’okay, I think I like it. Kinda nice. Feels good.”

“Y-you want me to keep watching?”

Dean’s lips tugged into a smirk. “You could try helping,” he echoed you earlier, when you were cleaning up Sam’s room and a bolt of arousal shot through you.

“H-how?”

“C’mere,” Dean shifted in his seat and then pushed his jeans and boxers off his hips. He pushed his chair out from the table and you shakily stood up, then knelt between his legs. “Ahn, fuck, sweetheart,” Dean gasped upon seeing you between his knees. He tilted his hips a bit towards you as you leaned forward and dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock. A quiet grunt left his lips as you grasped the base of his cock in your hand and his hands immediately gripped the armrests of his chair. It felt surreal, like this was somehow a dream and momentarily, you wondered if he’d just see you as someone who was willing to suck his dick, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he could be.

You reminded yourself that you could always say no in the future. This occurrence didn’t bind you into a contract of sucking Dean’s cock for the rest of your life. Then, you took him into your mouth and moaned at his vaguely salty taste, the smell of soap from his shower, and how velvety his cock felt on your tongue. It’d been awhile since you’d given someone head; you hoped you were still decent enough at it.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath and your eyes darted up to his face. He looked blissed out with glassy eyes and his lips still parted as he watched you work him over with your tongue and lips.

“That okay?” You asked after a moment.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he panted.

“More?”

“More,” he echoed, then grunted as you took him all the way into your mouth. You gently fondled his balls and steadily bobbed on his cock. His hips twitched and his hands gathered your blue-dyed hair away from your face, piled it on top of your head, and held it there.

 _Well isn’t that fucking sweet?_ You thought as you placed your hands on his upper thighs, partially for leverage and partially to keep him from bucking up into your mouth unexpectedly.

“Oh, shit,” he sighed. “Where do, where should I? Wh-where can I?”

You knew he was asking about where to come and you moaned around his dick, pulling off with a soft _pop_. “As long as you’re clean, I don’t care.” Without giving him time to answer, you took him back into your mouth and grinned inwardly as his fingers tightened on your hair.

“Can I, ohhhh, can I come in your mouth?”

“Mmhh,” you nodded, mouth still full of his throbbing cock.

Then Dean’s thighs tensed and his fingers buried themselves deeper into the hair gathered on your head. His dick twitched and you pulled back just enough so his come wouldn’t shoot straight down your throat, but rather into the back of your mouth, allowing you time to swallow. He released a shaky groan as he came, feeling your tongue move against the sensitive tip as you swallowed his load. When he finished and let go of your hair, you gently pulled off of him and sat back on your heels. Your pussy was drenched and you were aching for release, but you weren’t sure how to ask Dean to return the favor – or even if he would.

Absently, you wiped the corners of your mouth while Dean caught his breath and then pulled his boxers and pants back up. When he was half-tucked back in, you stood up. His hand shot out and grabbed your elbow before you could retreat and suddenly, he was standing in front of you. He knocked his chair back and the noise startled you, but then his lips were on yours and his tongue was seeking entrance to your mouth. With a small moan, you opened for him and his tongue swept through your mouth, as if seeking any missed essence of his own come. Dean kissed you deeply for a minute or more, then pulled away once he could no longer taste himself on your tongue.

You stood still, unsure what that kiss was about, and unsure if you should say anything.

“That was awesome,” Dean finally sighed. “You’re awesome.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks. And you’re welcome, I guess.”

He opened his eyes and though it was dark in the library, your laptop screen having gone dark several minutes ago, you caught a glint of amusement in them. “We still in a truce?” Your heart dropped at that question, wondering what he could possibly mean by it. _What sick prank had he just played to get me to suck his dick? Did he film it, secretly? Was this some fucked up kind of –_ “Cause I wanna return the favor,” he added, breaking into your thoughts. “If you’re into that kind of thing?”

“Wha-uh, yeah. I, I mean, if it’s good, I guess.”

“Oh, it’s good, sweetheart,” he said and you could hear his smarmy, cocky smirk that was surely plastered on his fucking face. “Trust me.” He dropped his voice about an octave and your knees went weak.

“O-okay,” you stammered, unable to wrap your head around the fact Dean was about to eat your pussy. He reached around you and closed your laptop before he slid it off to the side, then moved so you were facing the table. He sat on it, then swung his legs up and laid back and you could only stare at him, puzzled, in the dim light.

“Sit on my face,” he said as if reading your mind.

“Oh,” you breathed, your heart suddenly hammering in your chest. With trembling fingers, you undid your jeans, hesitating before sliding them and your panties down your legs. You then hiked a knee onto the table next to his hip, so you were facing his head. “I, um,”

“S’okay, sweetheart. I got you. C’mere.” His voice was so low, so gruff, so full of honey and promise that you probably could have come right then and there had he told you to. He put a hand on the back of your thigh as you swung your other leg across his lap and then crawled up his torso until your hips were over his shoulders. “I won’t bite,” he grinned in the dark. “Unless you ask,” he added cheekily. His hands on the backs of your thighs gently coaxed you up until your knees were parallel to his ears. He inhaled deeply and you felt your entire face turn red when he let out the lowest, sexiest groan you’d ever heard a man make. “Shit, you smell good.” With that, he moved his hands to your hips and pulled you down onto his mouth.

His tongue was ready and met your folds with a long, slow swipe. You couldn’t bite back the moan that punched from your lungs as he wrapped his hands around your thighs, holding them open for his mouth to start working you over. Dean slurped, licked, and sucked your soaking cunt with fervor you’d never experienced before. He swirled his tongue into your entrance, moaned at the taste of your slick that surely filled his mouth and coated his lips, and then focused his efforts on your clit. Your back arched and he gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you right where he wanted you as his tongue continued the assault on your swollen little nub. Nothing you did could keep the small noises of pleasure from escaping your lips. Encouraged by your moans and gasps, Dean didn’t let up until you were a shaking, quivering mess above him.

You couldn’t remember ever coming that hard, before. Your orgasm lasted a full minute as you rocked on Dean’s face and he just let you ride it out, moaning deeply into your pussy when he realized you were still coming more than a few seconds later. Finally, you remembered how to move your limbs, and climbed off Dean and down from the table on legs made of gelatin. He sat up and slid to the edge of the table, watching you as you bent over to gather your clothes.

“Wow,” he puffed after a minute. “You uh, you always come like that?”

You blushed again, thankful the library was dark and the other lights on weren’t bright enough to draw attention to that fact. “N-no, actually,” you admitted; you pulled your jeans on after struggling for a moment to figure out which way they went.

“Never?” Dean asked, sounding incredulous.

“I, I don’t know, maybe like once before?” You lied, tucking your soaked undies in your back pocket. “But, um, thanks,” you quickly added. “That was nice.”

Dean remained silent, his eyes just watching your every movement as if he were trying to work something out in his head.

“I guess, um, I’ll see you in the morning?” You asked, hoping he didn’t hear the nervousness in your voice.

“I don’t get a goodnight kiss?” He asked, his tone slightly teasing as his hand found yours and gently pulled you towards him.

“Sure,” you nodded and stepped closer. He opened his knees and you moved between them as his hands slid to your back, then down to your ass. Dean’s perfect, pouty lips were on yours again before you could blink. He kissed you slowly, taking his time and letting you direct the course of the kiss, since he wasn’t sure if you wanted to taste yourself or not. You knew what you tasted like, but on Dean’s lips, it was different. It was sexier. Dirtier. Naughtier. Your tongue pushed past his lips and you swept it through his mouth, making it obvious that you enjoyed the way you tasted. He groaned into your mouth, squeezing your ass none too gently.

When you pulled away, Dean took a long, slow breath. “Shit, Y/N. Please tell me this truce is gonna last awhile.”

“Play your cards right,” you teased, grinning. “Sweet dreams, Dean.” Reluctantly, you disentangled yourself from his grasp and he let go of you with a heavy sigh.

“Night, sweetheart.” If you could have seen his face as you walked out the library, you would have seen the face of a man who would readily admit defeat in all other prank wars if it meant he got more than just a taste of you.


End file.
